


Bruised not Broken

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Healing, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kissing, M/M, Mugging, Mutual Pining, Pre-Arrangement (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-10 23:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: Aziraphale gets mugged. Luckily Crowley is nearby to help him up.





	Bruised not Broken

“Hey mister, spare a coin?” 

Aziraphale blinked down at the boy that tugged on his sleeve. 

“Oh, I suppose I might have one,” he said with a smile, reaching for his money pouch.

Suddenly there was a swarm of boys surrounding him. “Now wait a moment…” One grabbed at his arm. When he tried to twist away there was a shock of pain.

He looked down at his side as the knife slid back out. 

“Ouch,” he said, stumbling back in what he hoped was the proper response to being stabbed.

One of the gang punched him and grabbed his money pouch, sending him sprawling onto the muddy lane. Definitely not the way this was supposed to go.

“Oi!” He heard Crowley before he saw him. The boys had the good sense to scatter, running off in multiple directions like ants evacuating a hill.

Crowley strolled up to his side and helped him sit up. “Did you finally manage to get mugged?”

“Well, not intentionally,” muttered Aziraphale, putting his hand on the injury to his side and wincing as it closed up.

“And too many people around to just smite them I suppose,” said Crowley, helping him to his feet.

“I’m a principality. I don’t smite,” said Aziraphale primly.

“London’s been a mess ever since the Romans left. Here, I’m staying somewhere close by.” Crowley put an arm around him.

Aziraphale wanted to argue that he didn’t need help, but it was rather nice to lean on the demon.

Crowley got him into the back door of a building and up the stairs. “I know you have standards, angel, but this part of the city isn’t exactly the best place to be a gentleman.”

“I can see that,” grumbled Aziraphale.

Crowley settled him in a chair and gently wiped blood from his split lip. “You’re just lucky I happened to be in the area.”

Aziraphale blinked up at him. Rather convenient how often Crowley was around, actually. He wasn’t sure what to do with that thought, so he put it aside for now. “Well, thank you for scaring them off.”

“If they got a good look at your true form that would do the trick too, but I know you can’t do that here,” Crowley dipped a cloth into a washbasin and moved to clean his skin, surreptitiously getting the blood and mud out of his clothes at the same time. He knew how Aziraphale felt about his outfits.

“Just here for a small blessing,” said Aziraphale. 

“I could cover that for you,” offered Crowley, “while you’re recovering.”

Aziraphale blinked. “That’s hardly necessary. As you can see, I’m fine. And besides I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.”

Crowley shrugged and stepped back. “They’d hardly notice.”

“Well, I appreciate the offer, but no.” Aziraphale got to his feet. “I’m sure you have other things to attend to.”

“We’re just going to end up canceling each other out again,” said Crowley.

“Be that as it may, we’re on opposite sides, it’s bound to happen.” Aziraphale straightened his clothes, appreciating that Crowley had cleaned it for him. He wasn’t sure heaven would appreciate that sort of miracle.

“Well, care to stay and have a drink? I’ve got a nice mead here.”

Aziraphale hesitated. He really should get on with the blessing, especially with the delay he’d already experienced. But, surely a drink wouldn’t hurt. “Fine,” he said. “But just one.”

**

Several hours later Aziraphale was feeling rather floaty and the bottle of mead was empty. Crowley was curled up warmly against his side, glasses off and telling a story, though all Aziraphale could focus on was the way his breath felt against his throat.

“Crowley,” he said, interrupting.

“Hmm?” Crowley looked up at him.

Aziraphale tipped his chin and leaned in to kiss him. They’d done this before, after a few too many drinks. And he never tired of the way it made warmth bloom in his chest. Today there was just a hint of pain from his bruised lip, but it did nothing to diminish the pleasure.

Crowley grinned at him when he pulled back. “Do that again,” he demanded, breathless.

Aziraphale obliged. Crowley sighed and looped his arms around his neck, wiggling closer. Aziraphale’s hand found its way into Crowley’s hair, running his fingers through it.

As pleasant as this was, his own internal alarms were going off. This was dangerous. This could get Crowley hurt or worse. Cavorting with angels couldn’t be anything Hell would approve of. Heaven probably wouldn’t like it either.

Regretfully, Aziraphale pulled back again, letting his hand fall. “Crowley. We can’t,” he said.

Several emotions crossed Crowley’s face at once. Pain, regret, anger, longing. And something akin to love before he looked away and physically got up, moving across the room. As if Aziraphale were the one tempting. And perhaps he was.

“I’m sorry,” said Aziraphale.

“I know,” said Crowley, voice rough. “I’m going to be in London for a bit longer, if you’re sticking around.”

“I might,” said Aziraphale, though he knew it was a bad idea. “Would make a good base of operations.” He stood up and straightened his clothes. He wanted to go to Crowley, take him in his arms and hold him forever, no matter what Hell or Heaven might say.

“You should go,” said Crowley, not looking at him.

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, hesitating a moment longer. “But I’ll see you around?” he asked hopefully.

Crowley had slipped his glasses back on. “Definitely,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to astudyinfic and beltainefaerie for reading it over
> 
> You can find me on twitter and tumblr at merindab


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